Interim

After a whirlwind year of emotions and events, Summer 2015 was a much welcome and much deserved opportunity to gather my bearings, take a breath, and relax. It would mark the first summer since starting college that I was not taking summer classes, and I had allotted the first month to specifically be at home and do nothing.

It was pleasant. For about a day.

I realized that I have so gotten into the mind set of constantly being on my toes, constantly having some work to do that if I don't have anything to occupy myself, I become restless. It feels like I'm wasting my life in some way. Gone were the days in which I could sit around for hours and binge watch Netflix. So to call Summer 2015 a "break" is fairly misleading, since I managed to keep myself quite busy.

The first month of the break I spent in Portland so that I could be with my family for the month of Ramadan. I may have touched upon my spiritual awakening earlier in this Portfolio, but I feel like this was the first time in my life where I experienced it full force since Ramadan was not something I simply participated in for a month, but it became something that defined my life for a month. My day would begin at 3 AM, at which time I would eat, pray, and begin the fast. Then I would sleep until about 11 AM. Throughout the rest of the day I would pray the remainder of the prayers, and at about 9 PM we would break our fast (sun-up to sun-down is fairly brutal during the summer months). Now this is where things got intense. About an hour after breaking fast, I would head to the Mosque and participate in a special Ramadan prayer. Each night, we gathered to listen as a Hafiz recited one chapter of the Qu'ran. Since this was incorporated into our ritualistic prayers, this process took about 2 hours. So I would return home after midnight, at which time I would recite the Qu'ran myself in Arabic, read the English Translation of the corresponding section, and read the history of the Prophet Mohammed's life. By the time I finished all that, it would be 3 AM, and it would be time to begin the next day's fast. This rigorous schedule defined my life for a month.

A note on reading the English Translation of the Qu'ran. As I've mentioned earlier, I no longer wanted to be a passive participant in my religion. I had stumbled across a deeper spirituality this year, and I realized that this was dependent on my ability to be mindful. Part of that mindfulness came from not blindly accepting anything, and really trying to understand all that I could about what I was doing. While reading the Qu'ran's meaning wasn't the revelation one might have expected it to be (I found it be very repetitive and often archaic or ambiguous), there were a few gems of insight that convinced me my own path of spirituality was justified (the Qu'ran describes Allah as this ethereal presence in the universe which binds humanity together, which I particularly enjoyed). As such, reading the translation really helped me understand why there is so much conflict within the Muslim community. I found meaning for myself that would probably stand at odds with another's opinion. What became apparent to me was that it was less important to take each of the specific details to heart, and instead allow my heart to embrace the feeling of it.

And the feelings were significant. On the final day of fasting, after my own completion of reading the Qu'ran, I raised my hands to the sky and reflected upon the month I had spent dedicating myself to Allah. I expressed my gratitude for the life I had been given, the new direction my life was taking me, the wonderful time I had had with my family, and prayed for his continual blessings. My chest seemed to brim with emotion and spirituality, and I found myself moved to tears as I spoke these words. It was at this moment that spirituality seemed most defined to me, this moment of reflection. Ironically - and maybe this makes me a hypocrite or a heretic - it wasn't something that was specifically defined by Islam that led me to this. Certainly, the hours of prayer and the fasting had been the vessel on which I had reached this point of self-reflection, but I felt like I had stumbled upon a level of humanity that transcended the borders between religions we had drawn with different names. I thought back to how meaningful the mindfulness in Buddhist Biology had been for me, and I began to wonder about this "ethereal presence" that allows humanity everywhere to tap into spirituality.

These thoughts provided the stirrings of a desire to embark upon a pilgrimage, an endeavor as a potential Bonderman Fellow. But more on that later.

The remainder of the summer was far less hectic than the month of Ramadan. After the Eid Celebration, I returned to Seattle. I came back to Portland every other weekend or so, but I wanted to spend my time primarily in Seattle so I could focus on working at Swedish Medical Center with the COPE Health Scholar Program. It was rather nice spending the summer in Seattle, an experience I had not had before. The summer had a sense of solitude to it, which wasn't as depressing as it might sound. The campus was empty, devoid of its usual bustle; although my roommates were still around, we were all busy with our own responsibilities. I went on long runs, exploring the diverse neighborhoods packed into the Seattle area. I actually had time to read for pleasure*. As I think back now to pleasant warmth, the happy adventures with friends and family, and the days passed in quiet peace, the entire Summer of 2015 feels like a lazy Sunday afternoon. As September drew to a close, I felt well rested and ready to take my final year at the University of Washington by storm.

*One of these books was Don Quixote. I felt it would be improper for me to quote the classic on the front page of my portfolio and not read it (not to say that was the only reason I read it, it had also been on my list for a while). Of the experience, I will say this: one cannot fully appreciate the word "quixotic" until the novel has been read (or at least, attempted to have been read). It was so meta: the novel itself is meta, referring to itself constantly, and reading the thing feels meta as one cannot help but feel like poor Sancho Panza, strung along on a seemingly ludicrous quest. There is definitely much to appreciate. There are times where it is riotously hilarious, and what Cervantes accomplished was far ahead of its time. Yet, its also an exhausting and gargantuan novel that has a listless quality at times when it becomes mired in the happenings of every random character and little with its eponymous hero. I suppose I am glad that I read it, but to be honest my pleasure may be due to being able to say I've read it more than the actual novel itself.

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.